“Nice house,” Patrick commented. He was still steadily backing away, although Julian was, at that particular moment, licking the barbecue sauce off of the spoon he had stolen from Patrick.
“Thanks.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Julian looked like he was getting ready to throw the now sauce-free spoon at him.
“I’m sorry.” Patrick’s voice practically dripped with sarcasm. “The next time the guy stalking my best friend attempts to kill his current lover, I’ll just let him die. Does that sound like a good idea?”
“Cam was being stalked?” Julian’s anger deflated slightly. “He didn’t say anything about being stalked.”
Patrick timidly moved closer to his friend. “Hey, he’s fine, Ace.”
Jack watched in amazement as Julian’s anger sprang back to life. Normally once Julian had started to calm down, he continued to calm down. He didn’t like arguing with people. It was a side effect of Julian’s rather awkward social skills. For him to continue to yell at Patrick meant that they were close, which—considering that they had been lovers—Jack should have expected. He just hadn’t realized that they had been that close.
“Why do you and Cam insist on keeping these things from me?”
“We don’t want you to worry.”
“I don’t worry that much,” Julian complained.
Jack cleared his throat. “Um, actually, you do.”
“See, even your boyfriend says that you worry too much.” Patrick crossed his arm over his chest. There was a smug look on his face.
Jack was starting to feel a tad stupid for opening his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle of a fight between the two of them. It was never a good idea to be in the middle. Unless, of course, there were more pleasant things than a fight going on. That was not going to happen with Patrick and Julian, though. Jack wasn’t the sharing kind.
“Patrick, this isn’t like you got a cold. You got shot!”
“I’m a cop. It tends to happen.”
“It shouldn’t! Damn it, Patrick, I don’t want you to die!”
With that comment, Julian seemed to crumble slightly. All of the fight went out of him. Jack was just about to push himself out of his chair and pull his lover into his arms, but Patrick acted first.
Patrick crossed the distance between them and pulled Julian to his chest with his good arm. “I’m not planning on dying any time soon, Ace. You’re stuck with me.”
“Good,” Julian muttered. He rested his head against Patrick’s uninjured shoulder for a moment, then lifted his head. “You know that you’re coming with me to the office tomorrow so I can take a good look at that shoulder.”
“I know.” Patrick pulled away and pointed at the table with the spoon he had managed to steal back from Julian. “Now sit down. I made you and Jack a nice dinner and now you have to eat it.”
Jack laughed at the rather excited look on Julian’s face. When his lover sat next to him, he leaned over and stole a kiss. Pulling away, he ran his thumb over Julian’s lips. “Feeling calmer?”
“A bit.”
“Are the two of you going to argue like this the entire time that he’s here?”
“No. I think we got the big one out of the way. It’ll mainly just be little ones about the number of guys that Patrick goes through while he’s here.”
Jack shot a confused look between Patrick and his lover. “What?”
“He’s a slut.”
“Hey.” Patrick whacked Julian on the back of the head as he set a plate in front him. “It’s not nice to tell tales.”
“They’re all true.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Patrick put a plate in front of Jack while awkwardly holding his own with his bad arm. “You shouldn’t tell Jack all of the stories until he gets to know me better.”
“What if I don’t want him to get to know you better? Getting to know you better usually involves nudity.”
“Sassy,” Patrick chided. He turned his attention to Jack. “I like what you’ve done to him.”
“Hey, I can’t take all of the credit.” Jack took his first bite of barbecue-coated stir-fry and moaned. “Oh God, this is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Jack turned his attention to Julian once more. “I don’t care what it takes, you are getting this recipe.”
Patrick’s laughter made him turn back. The laughter wasn’t normal laughter. It was the type of laughter that sent shivers down Jack’s spine. Patrick’s green eyes seemed to have darkened. “I don’t think you want to tempt me with an offer like that.”
Jack swallowed as Julian laughed. Julian’s laughter seemed to break the tension and they started eating again. As Julian and Patrick’s conversation flowed over him, Jack’s thoughts wandered to Patrick’s lust-darkened eyes. Something about them had seemed terribly familiar.
Julian rubbed a hand over his face and let out a deep breath. He knew he wasn’t very good with people getting themselves hurt; ironic, considering that he was a doctor, for crying out loud, but he couldn’t help it. Part of it stemmed from his parents’ tragic deaths when he was very young, and though Roz’s family had taken him in without question, he had still felt essentially homeless for a very long time. It wasn’t easy for him to fit in in new places, or make new friends, which was why he tended to keep the ones he had as safe as he could.
Then Patrick had gone and gotten himself shot, and someone had been stalking Cam—he was going to have to get the whole story out of Patrick, but that could wait till later—and now he was not a happy Julian.
“Relax,” Jack murmured from just behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Julian leaned back into the touch, a small smile quirking his lips when he realized Jack smelled like barbecue sauce. “He’s not broken.”
“I bet the X-rays say otherwise.” Julian sighed, feeling a good deal of the tension leave his body anyway. There was no way Patrick had taken a bullet in that area without some substantial bone and tissue damage. “Sorry, I know I’m all….” He gesticulated aimlessly, trying to convey his neuroses with his hands. “I don’t know why I get this way.”
“I do,” Jack reassured him, planting a kiss on the back of his head. “You’re not rethinking your decision, are you?”
For a minute, Julian wasn’t sure which decision Jack meant: having Patrick over to recuperate for a month, or his recent decision to take on duties as an emergency on-call surgeon at the nearest hospital’s ER in addition to his regular practice. Julian didn’t regret either of them, though he was wary about both. “No.”
“Good. Now, go make nice with your friend. It’s going to be a long month if you’re this awkward and fidgety the whole time.”
Julian turned around so they were facing each other and slid his hands into Jack’s jeans pockets. “I’ll show you awkward and fidgety,” he promised lightly, squeezing.
“Promises, promises.” Jack swatted him on the butt. “Now go! Kiss and make up. Except without the touching, please. I’ll be out of the way, walking the dog, should you need time to dispose of the body.”
“You’re the best,” Julian said fondly, kissing him briefly. “I’m going. Say ‘hi’ to Roy and Hallie for me, okay?” Roy and Hallie were their nearest neighbors; Roy was a single dad whose wife had left him unexpectedly, leaving him to raise his extremely precocious daughter by himself.
He left Jack and Robot in the front room and wandered down the hallway into the guest bedroom. Patrick was there, suitcase open, putting things away one-handed. It was pretty obvious that Cam had folded his clothes, since Patrick was barely capable of keeping them folded while transferring them from the suitcase to the dresser. “Make yourself at home,” Julian told him with a small smile, flopping down onto the bed to watch.
“Yeah,” Patrick said dryly, tossing a pair of balled-up socks onto his chest, “you, too.”
Julian raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly that might mean. He propped his head up on his arm, rolling a li
ttle to watch his friend. “So, Cam and the infamous Jeremy, huh?” Even going back to their university days, they had known about Cam’s teenage crush—and teased him mercilessly. “Didn’t see that coming.” He kept his tone deliberately casual and blinked innocently when Patrick narrowed his eyes at him.
“Me neither,” the other man answered noncommittally. He finished putting away his clothes and then put the empty suitcase under the bed and joined Julian, staring up at the ceiling. “They’re very….”
Julian waited. When Patrick didn’t finish the sentence, he prompted, “Yes?” The soft sigh Patrick let out was worrisome, to say the least. Uh-oh.
“Happy. They make me feel old, Ace. Now you, too? And your boyfriend is practically a senior citizen.”
Julian spluttered with laughter. Maybe something was going on, but Patrick wasn’t ready to talk about it seriously. Not yet, anyway. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that. Maybe he’ll help me hide the body.”
“Is it time for that talk already?” Patrick seemed to deflate. Well, except for his swollen shoulder, anyway.
“It’s always that time with me,” Julian said mock-cheerfully. That shoulder wound had to hurt, and if he knew Patrick, which he did, he wasn’t taking his pain medication. Julian was going to have to send a blood sample for lab work tomorrow, which he was sure Patrick would not appreciate, so it was probably best to prepare him now. “How long has it been that color?”
Patrick looked uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”
Rolling his eyes, Julian reached over and poked the skin just below the wound. The skin was burning hot. Patrick hissed. “This color. The one that looks a little like the shade I turn when I have a sunburn.” Julian pointed out. “This says to me, ‘I’m infected!’” He made a little high-pitched bacteria voice.
Patrick was definitely squirming. “I don’t know. A couple of days, I guess. Maybe a week?”
From his tone of voice, Julian guessed it had been at least a week, and probably longer. “And the reason you have not been taking your antibiotics is because…?”
“Would you believe my health insurance doesn’t cover it?”
Julian let his expression show that he was not snowed even for a second. “The real reason, please, Patrick.”
“The ones they put me on made me feel like shit. I couldn’t keep anything down, I slept fourteen hours a day, and when I did manage to stay awake, my head was fuzzy.” He flopped his good arm over his eyes. “I’m a cop, Julian. I can’t live like that. I’ll go crazy.”
“Too late for that,” Julian muttered, sitting up. “Okay. Here’s the deal. There is a reason they put you on antibiotics.” He poked Patrick’s shoulder again, gentler this time, and let himself feel for bone or tissue damage briefly. Patrick grimaced, but didn’t stop him. “The reason is so this doesn’t happen.”
He got up and went to the dresser, where Patrick had laid out all of his supplies for cleaning the wound, and prepared an alcohol swab. “Once you’re infected,” he continued, sitting down again and swabbing across the worst of the wound, “the little buggers clog up your systems and surf your bloodstream looking for other targets.” He paused to let the effect of his words sink in. “Popular vacation destinations include, but are not limited to, the lungs, the heart, the brain, and the intestines. That leaves you at risk for pneumonia, meningitis, encephalitis, endocarditis, and some really nasty things you don’t want to hear about. So. How ’bout them antibiotics?” He glanced at Patrick’s face. “And a painkiller.”
“I am trying really hard not to hate you right now,” Patrick sighed. The pain he was obviously still in was clearly visible in his expression.
“I appreciate the effort,” Julian said, trying to hide a sigh of relief. He didn’t remember Patrick being quite this stubborn about his health before, but then again, Patrick had never really been his patient before, either. That one surgery didn’t really count. “As it so happens, I brought a selection home with me. You’re not allergic to anything I should know about, are you?”
Patrick shook his head.
Padding into the kitchen, Julian poured a glass of water and perused his medicines. He wanted something strong enough to work quickly but mild enough not to cause Patrick any extra discomfort.
“Ta-da,” he said, handing them over. “The blue ones are the antibiotic. White is Percocet. For the pain,” he added, catching Patrick’s sudden expression of revulsion. “Patrick, I can tell you’re hurting. I know you probably hate the way they make you feel, but give yourself a break, okay?” He paused. “Roz told me you haven’t been sleeping well.”
Patrick dumped the little white pills on the nightstand. “I’ll take the antibiotics, Ace, but not the painkillers. I don’t need them.”
Why won’t people just trust their doctors? Julian wondered with a sigh. “You know, I can see those bags under your eyes.”
“Drop it, Julian. I’m not taking them.”
Whoa. The temperature in the room had just dropped a few degrees. Patrick obviously had some deep-seated aversion to analgesics he wasn’t going to talk about. “Fine,” Julian snapped, his voice harsher than he’d intended. Breathing deeply, he made an alternative offer. “How about a sedative, then?”
It was a little bit risky, especially if Patrick made a habit of it, but Julian was hoping that clearing the infection with the antibiotics would decrease the pain enough that Patrick would be able to sleep naturally before he could develop a dependency on the sedative.
Patrick was quiet for a moment, obviously struggling with the decision. “Yeah, a sedative sounds good,” he said at length. He sounded like he wanted to say something else, but Julian waited in vain.
“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll be right back.”
When Jack and Robot got home an hour later, Julian was curled up on the couch in the front room, his knees tucked up under his chin, arms around his legs.
Jack let Robot off the leash and sat down beside him. Julian leaned into his body a little helplessly, feeling bone-weary.
“Good talk?” Jack asked quietly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Not knowing how to answer that, Julian didn’t. He just shook his head vaguely. He couldn’t help but feel that there was something wrong with Patrick, something that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen him.
“Okay,” Jack said after a minute, rising and pulling Julian up after him. “I get it. Come on. Bedtime, Dr. Love. You can solve your patient’s personality disorder in the morning. I’ve got a shotgun in the back shed if nothing else works.”
“I love you,” Julian said automatically, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.
“I know you do,” Jack said, kissing him warmly. “Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter 4
When Patrick finally forced his way to consciousness, his head felt slightly heavy, but he felt rested. He’d just had his first good night’s sleep in a month. Maybe Julian had a point about actually taking the pills the doctor had told him to. Patrick used his good hand to rub at his eyes. He was starting to feel like an ass. He needed to apologize to Julian for the way he’d been acting. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how he was going to do that. Apologies weren’t his strong point.
Patrick sat up with a stretch. The pain in his shoulder flared back to life as he moved. Patrick hissed in discomfort. Ow. Pulling himself out of bed, he grabbed one of the towels that Julian had left for him. Hopefully a shower would help ease his aches and give him an idea of what to say to Julian.
As he padded back to the guest room with the towel wrapped around his waist, he heard the Indiana Jones theme. His phone was ringing. Patrick skidded into the room and grabbed up the phone.
“Hawkins.”
“So, how goes the vacation?” The lilting female voice on the other side had an Irish accent.
“Hey, Sparky.” Patrick carefully lowered himself onto the bed. He smiled at his partner even though she couldn’t see him. “How are things going?”
<
br /> “Not too bad. I miss you, partner. Are you getting the rest that you need?”
“I’ve only been gone a day.” Patrick sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Justine, can I ask you a question?”
“This can’t be good. You used my full name.”
“How do I apologize for being an asshole?”
“Well, you usually use sex.”
“I can’t use sex. Julian has a boyfriend.”
“How did you get Julian mad at you in one day? Good God, Patrick, are you trying to make him hate you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why do you need to apologize?”
“Because I snapped at him when he tried to give me painkillers.”
“Well, he should have been expecting that. I mean, you’ve barely taken an Advil since the last time that you were shot.”
“Well, he kind of doesn’t know about that,” Patrick admitted.
“What?” Justine’s voice was a rather loud shriek. “Patrick, the pregnant woman named her son after you. He just turned three! How could you not tell him?”
“I didn’t want him to worry.”
“You need to tell him. You can’t apologize until you tell him.”
“What if he gets mad at me?”
“I’m sure he’s going to.” Justine sighed. “Look, you need to tell him, or you aren’t going to get any type of rest while you’re gone. You need the rest, Patrick. You’re starting to burn out, and I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“You really think that I should tell him?”
“Yes. You need to tell him. I’ll call later to see how you’re doing.”
“Bye, Sparky.”
“Get some rest,” Justine replied. Before he could argue with her, she hung up the phone. Patrick sighed and flipped his phone closed, tossing it on the bed. Justine’s advice was to tell Julian. How the hell was he supposed to do that?
Patrick sat up with a sigh and a wince. He knew that Justine was right, but how? He couldn’t just come out and tell Julian. That would most likely lead to Julian trying to harm him, and with his arm in a sling, that just wouldn’t be fair. As he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on a pad of paper and a pen sitting on the dresser. A grin crossed his face. He could do a letter. A letter meant that he wouldn’t have to be there when Julian read it. He could be safely hiding. Patrick snatched the pad of paper off the dresser and began to write, carefully ignoring the complaints from his injured arm.
Wild Angels Page 3
